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09 July 2012

The Intersection of Poetry and Prose: Summer of the Novella

I’ve
been thinking a lot lately about the intersection of poetry and prose. Although
my background is in poetry, I’ve always loved reading novels, and recently
finished writing a novel-length book myself. Genres aside, what I’m really
drawn to is sharp, rich language, usually with a philosophical bent that tells
a good story. Naturally, I gravitate toward the novella, which is roughly a
work of fiction that’s anywhere from 17,500 words to 40,000 words (exact
definitions will differ). Over the last year, I’ve read some fascinating novels
and I wanted to share a few that I thought were nothing short of
brilliant.

This
slim novel is something I found in a Borders Bookstore in Chicago in 2010. On
the shelf, it looked like it could be a poetry collection, but it was the
prominent quote on the back “we are such volatile creatures that we finally
feel the sentiments we feign” that prompted me to open the book and it was the
way the author told the story—almost like reading someone’s most intimate
report on love gone wrong—that sealed the deal.

The
book touched on the themes you encounter in Flaubert, Goethe, and Tolstoy—love
and destruction, love and time, and what happens when the balance between
hearts is askew—even if just a little bit? How do we reconcile the moods and
weather of our volatile hearts? In this case, it’s a deeply poignant,
definitely poetic story of a man and a woman who launch themselves into an
affair, finding out too late that though you may break from other people, you
cannot break with yourself.

Who
remembers being 18 and deeply confused about whether or not you were a grown-up
yet? Sagan was only 18 when she wrote this book—and it’s probably her
masterpiece. I was in Colorado Springs, browsing in a bookstore when I came
across a tattered copy of this book, which was published in France during the
fifties. It’s steeped in a French brand of melancholy and it’s a young woman’s
coming of age story.

The
book is a framed narrative and from the very first line, I was hooked, “A
strange melancholy pervades me to which I hesitate to give the name of sadness.” Basically,
the book grapples with sexuality and the in-between years when you’re not quite
a kid, but also not yet an adult. It’s a gorgeous meditation on the angst of
growing up, which we all know so well. It’s a bittersweet gem and is easily
read in an afternoon.

If you’ve not yet read this book, please do
so now. This book recently received the Man Booker Prize and I can see why: it’s
a gorgeously written, slim novel that investigates the nuances of time and the
fickleness of memory. In short, it’s immaculate. I loved how poetic the work
itself felt and how Barnes masterfully took us through the life of his main
character, Tony Webster, whose life was simple enough, until an unusual bequest
forces him to reconsider the past—and the part he played in the lives he’d long
since distanced himself from.

I’d encourage you to read the book in one
sitting. It’s a deeply philosophical tale that left me wondering about the past
we all imagine for ourselves and how there are spaces in our own lives that are
rich in mystery—some to be explained, some to be left forever untold.

PQ welcomes Tasha as our new Reviews Coordinator.

Tasha Cotter'swork has
recently appeared in or is forthcoming in Booth, The Rumpus, Contrary Magazine,
and elsewhere. Her fiction was recently nominated for a storySouth Million
Writers award, and her poetry has been nominated for Best of the Net Anthology
2011. She received her MFA from the Bluegrass Writer's Studio. In 2010 her
fiction received agency representation with AKA Literary. She is the Reviews
Coordinator for Poets’ Quarterly and is a current member of the Kentucky
Women Writers Conference.